Forgive me, I haven’t posted in a while. You know how it is when time just flies away. That’s all the time for those of you still raising families, so I’m not complaining: your schedules put mine to shame. On top of it all, I’ve been writing two mysteries at once, one set in contemporary Brooklyn, the other in Paris in 1874. The first drafts should be ready for editing on August 15, at least that’s my goal.

Remember searching for your dreams when you were twenty? I do. And the search still haunts me, the time when we were young and so was life. The world was our oyster, if we only knew how to break it open. It was a time of new adventure, for travel to exotic lands, a time when angst and turmoil were to die for, a time for a lot of navel gazing, a time to forget books and degrees and jobs, a time to get lost in the salt tunnels of Sicily or in the labyrinths of Moroccan villages or on the horns of a dilemma, a time to flirt with life, a time to find oneself.

Well, Fina Fitzgibbons—that’s her name right now, she might change it—but Fina never had those exotic opportunities and a big part of her is searching. Her father disappeared a few years after 9/11 when Fina was a senior at Packer Collegiate in Brooklyn. At the time, her brother was in med school; her sisters still in grade school, and Fina, the middle child with extraordinary business skills as well as a mind for sleuthing had to help support her family. Shortly after her mother was accused of embezzling funds at the Nameless As Yet Foundation where she worked, her body was found steps away from her front stoop and Fina was on her own, the burden of her mother’s death like a fresh wound.

The book begins when Fina falls into her first case. Literally. She’s a newly licensed PI, barely making ends meet. Goaded by her best friend, Cookie, she investigates the death of a woman whose body Fina finds on the same spot where her mother’s body was discovered seven years previously. (And before I forget to tell you, Serafina Florio is one of Fina’s great-great-grandmothers. Fina shares her surname for a reason—she was named in her honor.)

Meanwhile, back in the nineteenth century. Serafina’s on the move and I’ve been writing her fourth mystery. This one takes place in France in April 1874—coincidentally during the First Impressionist exhibit on the boulevard des Capucines—when she’s commissioned to investigate the tawdry death of a Sicilian countess whose body was found on a back street in Paris. The plot gets complicated because the dead countess is the estranged wife of Serafina’s lover, Loffredo, whom she, Serafina, hasn’t seen in several weeks and their romance becomes deeply compromised—on the rocks, you might say—at least in the beginning of the book.

“In the Baron’s Study,” an excerpt from Death In Bagheria

Bagheria, Sicily, March 1870

“The baron was showing me his new steamer.” Serafina pointed to the telescope on its stand in front of the window. “You can see it through the telescope if you like.”

Rosa shook her head, dismissing the offer with a wave of her hand.

He smiled at the madam. “In the harbor now, being loaded with supplies.”

“It sails when?” Rosa asked.

“Late today.” He paced before them. “We hope to make North America in ten days, not a record, but respectable, especially for this time of year—early for steaming into northern waters.”

“Do you carry passengers?”

He nodded. “A few. There’s room for over two hundred men, women, and children, most of them in steerage, but these days, our profit is from carrying cargo, not people; now we ship citrus to New York and Boston, perhaps New Orleans or San Francisco in the future.” He rubbed his hands together. “Next year, my son tells me, when families who can afford better accommodation begin to leave, we plan on refitting part of the upper deck with first-class cabins, but for now, our need is for space below deck.”

“When who begins to leave?” Rosa asked.

“Our bankers bet on hard times, a mass exodus from Sicily within the next five years, growing stronger in the next decades.”

Serafina and Rosa were silent.

“There’s unrest all over the Europe. I’m afraid for France, that idiot Emperor trying to slap around the Kaiser—doesn’t know what he’s in for. And Italy struggles while Garibaldi fights Austria and the papal states. If more banks fail, the future of the merchant class in the south will be grim. The new world calls, and that’s where we come in.” The baron smiled.

Serafina swallowed. She imagined her son, Vicenzu, looking out at her from behind the windows of their empty apothecary shop, saw in her mind the streets of Oltramari which, lately, seemed rustier, dustier. But no, she rejected his words: after all, what did he know? She turned to Rosa, who caught her mood, reached over, and patted her hand.

“The ship’s named after the baroness,” Serafina said, looking at Rosa.

The baron nodded.

“A shame she’s missing this day,” Serafina said.

He furrowed his brows. “Afraid you’re wrong there. She wanted nothing to do with our business. She hated it. How did she think …” His question hung in the air.

To break the mood, Rosa said, “Such an honor, having a ship named after—”

“Hated all talk of business.” Red faced, the baron heaved himself over to the hearth, grabbed an iron, and poked at smoldering embers. “Drat those servants! Don’t know how to tend a fire?”

Recovering somewhat, he sat across from them and crossed his legs. “What is it you wish to discuss—my married life? How my wife loathed me, couldn’t bear the sight of me? How we slept in separate rooms, seldom spoke? How she never cared a fig for my business, didn’t want to hear my thoughts on European history or its future? I disgusted her! I suppose she assumed aristocrats cultivated coins from the soil or grew them in huge pots and stored them in the larder. Unspeakably stubborn, Caterina, just like her father and his father before him. Blind to the change, killing themselves out, that’s what they’re doing. But …” He looked up at her portrait, then at a spot in the room as if he could see her shade. “She was so beautiful, like an angel when she walked into a room, and a poet with words, so charming, they flowed from her lips.” He stopped, as if reluctant to leave the memory. “And I loved her.”

The two women were silent until Serafina asked, “Your business, is that what killed her?”

Photo: A villa in Bagheria. Credit: le foto di Grimmo (Flickr), Creative Commons

Today I’m interviewed at DV Berkom’s site. We talk about Serafina’s books and the history of Sicily in the late nineteenth century. Join us.

“The Music Lesson,” an excerpt from No More Brothers

Wednesday, February 13, 1867

Serafina felt a stiffness in her body as she strode across the piazza with Maria. No more riding all day in a wooden cart. She smelled citrus and fresh laundry. Sidestepping a clump of women gathered around the onion seller, she rushed to keep up with her daughter.

“Hurry, we’ll be late,” Maria said.

“Slow down. The maestro will still be there.”

“Yes, but today I start a new piece.”

“The one I’ve heard you practicing? Don’t tell me: it’s a Brahms something or other.”

“How did you know?”

“Wild guess.”

Maria skipped ahead.

“His sonata for cello,” she called over her shoulder.

“But you play the piano.”

She dashed a look to Serafina. “He wrote it for cello and piano. I’m accompanying the maestro. Next time we go to see Aunt Giuseppina, I want to surprise her.”

Serafina was half listening to her daughter when a shock of red hair blocked their way.

Don Tigro flashed his magnificent teeth. “I missed your visit last week.” He nodded to Maria.

Serafina whispered in her ear. “Run to your lesson. I’ll meet you there.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I came to see Elisabetta, not you. She’s big and uncomfortable, I’m afraid, but that’s to be expected in the final month. I don’t doubt you’ve followed my instructions and released her from her obligations to help you entertain all your criminal friends.”

“Most of us mellow in middle age, but that tongue of yours just gets sharper.”

She tried to suppress a smile. “You’ll need to move here soon so that I may manage the birth.”

“Arrived yesterday, Betta and I. And now we are neighbors, at least for a while, and I can keep a watch on Maria’s progress. That’s why I’m here—to listen to her exquisite playing.”

“Progressing nicely without your help.”

“When will you learn to think of your children first? I’m willing to be Maria’s patron.”

“Never!”

“She’d have the finest teachers, become world-renowned, but not if you don’t accept patronage. You barely manage now. The crops failed last year. Families are falling apart. Women are doing their own birthing. Soon you’ll lose your stipend.”

“No matter. We have the shop.”

“Won’t last. You’ll be ruined, your family spread to the four corners. I owe it to our mother to help you.”

Serafina’s temples throbbed. “Stay away from Maria. I’m Elisabetta’s midwife because she’s my friend, not because of you.”

“As you wish.” He shrugged and disappeared inside Lorenzo’s music shop.

Photo: In the Madonie. Credit: Antonio Llardo (Flickr)

INTRODUCTION

After recuperating from his terrible ordeal in a Nazi concentration camp, British paratrooper Sammy rejoins his platoon which has been sent to police the increasingly volatile situation in Palestine. There, he hopes he might be able to find his beloved Naomi – the woman who helped him survive in the camp.

Sammy isn’t your average Parachute Regiment captain, and he uses every opportunity (when he’s not searching for Naomi) to take in the local cultural offerings. Whilst sitting in a cafe in Tel Aviv’s Dizengoff Square waiting for the start of a concert in the nearby hall, he makes a different, all the more unexpected, encounter with another woman from his past. Lesley Carrington, the young, beautiful Foreign Office official who questioned him about his ordeal while he was recovering in Germany, is just as surprised to find Sammy there.

It turns out that Lesley is also heading to the concert at the Dizengoff Hall, so they decide to go together.

The character of Sammy is an amalgam of many soldiers William served with whilst he was in the Parachute Regiment. Like Sammy, William fought in Arnhem (the famous battle for the “Bridge Too Far”) and then saw action in Palestine after the war.

EXCERPT

Tel Aviv, Palestine. 1946

They settled into their seats. The hall felt cool in contrast to the heavy atmosphere outside in the square. The chatter from the largely Jewish audience was, as usual, cacophonous but Lesley seemed not to notice, engrossed as she was in the detail of her programme. Sammy watched her, a soft smile set upon his lips. He recalled their first encounter. Broken by his ordeal and crushed by the loss of Naomi, he had no mind for anything beyond an obsession to find her until he entered an office in Hanover and faced Lesley for the first time. He recalled how she had excited within him a desire, unexpected yet irrepressible, which brought with it a sense of confusion and self reproach. Believing his devotion to Naomi absolute he had tried desperately to suppress these strange and alluring emotions, to rid himself of his infatuation. But the images of their encounter remained with him to remind him how, for one brief moment, he had felt again the touch of intimacy and the brightness of joy when all had seemed so dark. He felt that same contentment now, like the reprise of an enchanting melody and felt again that same desire quicken within him. He sighed softly as he contemplated her beauty. He wanted to touch her, to stroke her hair, to kiss her. She turned to him, smiling and raised her programme.

‘According to this, your Mahler was not exactly a bundle of laughs.’ He held her gaze, smiling wistfully. She tilted her head quizzically. ‘Sammy?’

He nodded slowly. ‘Perhaps not, but wait till you hear his music.’

She studied the programme again then said dismissively, ‘He looks like a Jewish pawnbroker.’

He laughed, snapping out of his reverie. ‘And what does a Jewish pawnbroker look like, compared say, with a Presbyterian pawnbroker?’

She punched him playfully. ‘You know what I mean, don’t pretend to be obtuse. Just look at this picture, look at those awful little specs.’

He nodded. ‘You are right, that is obviously why Ben calls him “Uncle Gustav”.’

Chuckling happily, she found herself warming once again to his boyish humour. She recalled how, while still recovering from the brutal treatment he had received in the camp, he could still crack a joke.

He smiled at her. ‘Happy, pretty lady?’

‘Oh poor Ben, he was so sweet. Yes I am, very happy. This is nice, such a lovely surprise, not at all what I expected when I left Jerusalem today.’

He frowned and a question began to form but a ripple of applause diverted his attention. ‘Look out, here comes the Konzertmeister, we’re off.’

She sat up expectantly. ‘What’s this conductor like?’ she whispered.

‘Bernstein? Young, very energetic. Nice Jewish boy from New York.’

The conductor approached the rostrum to rapturous applause. ‘He’s very popular.’ Lesley looked at Sammy.

‘Well, he’s almost a local boy, keeps a house on the edge of town, I believe.’ His voice dropped to a whisper as a hush fell upon the hall.

Bernstein took up his baton and stood for some moments, posing theatrically, head bowed, hands clasped before him. He looked up suddenly and with a flourish of his baton, swept the orchestra into the frenzied opening bars of Richard Strauss’s Don Juan. Lesley had not heard the music before, Strauss being effectively expunged from the English musical repertoire for the duration because of his perceived allegiance to the Nazis. She sat, transfixed. She had never experienced orchestral sound like this, the belling brass contrasting with tender woodwind melodies and sumptuous strings. She clapped enthusiastically and squeezed Sammy’s arm in her excitement. ‘Wasn’t that wonderful?’ she shouted above the applause.

He looked at her face, so animated with pleasure and he wanted to crush her to him. He simply smiled. ‘And the best is yet to come.’

It took her ear a little time to attune to Mahler. Gradually, she found herself swaying in her seat to the rhythms of marches, waltzes, ländler, then laying back, eyes closed, drinking in the rich, sensuous orchestration. Bernstein took a rest after the third movement, standing again, head bowed on the rostrum. She glanced sideways at Sammy. He smiled at her. ‘Like it?’ She nodded, sighing. Then suddenly, as she gazed at him, she heard a harp and the strings, following its meter, began to play the most beautiful and poignant love music she had ever heard. She glanced at Sammy again. His eyes were closed and his face bore a quiet, wistful expression. She recalled Ben’s remark, ‘even Vlad the Impaler will look good’, and she felt herself being irresistibly drawn to him. Not to the fearsome, violent man she had first encountered in Germany, a man consumed with hatred and anger, but to a gentle, sensitive man, compelled by cruel and intolerable circumstance to act against his true nature. She turned to face the orchestra again and slowly pushed her hand into his. At first he did not respond, but then gradually his grip tightened and she leaned into him.

Pegasus Falling is available now in paperback and ebook from Amazon.com (www.amazon.com/dp/B007K8QM8E)

Bio: (William’s)

William Edward Thomas was born in West London in 1925.

He left The Brompton Oratory School when he was 14 and started work as a messenger at the BBC. When war broke out, he went to work with his father at a factory in Harrow. While still a teenager, William joined the army and was soon recruited in to the Parachute Regiment. By May 1945, he had been “dropped” in to a number of key battles and become a much decorated soldier. He was still only 19 years old. Following the war, William served in Palestine until 1948.

William has six children. As they were growing up, he was working and studying in shifts as a merchant seaman and an engineer. In his mid fifties, he decided to work full time as a lab technician at his Alma Mater, The Open University and remained there until his retirement. It was during his retirement that he decided to set himself the challenge of writing a novel. The Cypress Branches is the result.

William was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease in 2006. His health has since deteriorated to the point where he can no longer live at home and he is now in full-time care in the town UK of Milton Keynes, where he had lived for 25 years. He is visited by friends and family daily.

Note: This excerpt is part of the IT NEVER WAS YOU Blog Tour at  http://acuteanglebooks.blogspot.com/2013/04/inwy-tour.html As part of the tour, Mike Harris is using Rafflecopter to give away a $50 Amazon gift certificate, 3 paperbacks and 10 ebooks. You can enter here: a Rafflecopter giveaway

Links to websites and where we can buy the books

Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007K8QM8

Amazon.co.uk: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007K8QM8E

Kobo: http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Pegasus-Falling-Part-Cypress-Branches/book-aRdbIfc_5k6C8d4UwP4BRQ/page1.html?s=k0GahhdxfUuQIFusQO1mFg&r=1

Listen to the Adagietto from Mahler’s Fifth Symphony, the music that melted Lesley’s heart:

Mike, thanks for the opportunity to talk with you. I’m thrilled to have you and to learn about you and your involvement in your grandfather’s work, especially Pegasus Falling and It Never Was You, the first two books of the Cypress Branches Trilogy.

It’s a thrill to be here, Susan. Thank you so much for inviting me on to your blog today.

Tell us about THE CYPRESS BRANCHES. What is the time, the place, the story, the overarching theme, the main concern?

If you were to categorize The Cypress Branches, it would have to be as an epic family saga, but that doesn’t really do it justice. It has so many elements to it that make it a wonderfully rich read – there’s history, war, politics, comedy and tragedy all mingling and jostling for space within its pages. But at its heart is a beautiful love story – well, several beautiful love stories, really, that have stayed with me ever since I first read it nearly 20 years ago.

William wrote The Cypress Branches as one epic novel. At over 350,000 words, it was far too large a book to publish in its original form, so I have used its episodic structure to break it down into a series of shorter novels.

Pegasus Falling is the first part of what is now the Cypress Branches trilogy. It follows the story of Sammy – a British paratrooper who, after being captured at the infamous battle of Arnhem in 1944, has a violent coming together with his German captors and is sent to a concentration camp for “disposal”. He survives the atrocities of the camp by clinging to a Jewish German hausfrau, Naomi. The two come to rely on each other for strength, but when the camp is liberated they are separated and Sammy sets off to discover what happened to her – a journey which takes him across Europe and into the political hotbed of Palestine.

In part two of the trilogy, called It Never Was You, the story moves on to a new set of characters. Harry is a middle class merchant seaman from the London suburbs. Mary is a waitress who hails from the docklands area of Liverpool. When the two meet and fall in love, they find the collective weight of post World War II societal values and their own prejudices and peccadilloes threatening their relationship.

In Part Three (which is as yet untitled) the stories from both books are tied together as the action moves into the 1950s and 60s. The characters’ relationships become more and more intertwined and we reach a devastating conclusion. Throughout the books, the characters find their lives influenced by the tumultuous events of the mid-twentieth century. Many readers, myself included, are finding that we’re learning a lot more about an era which is too recent to be considered history but too long ago to be remembered by younger generations. It is a fascinating period, one which was marked by seismic social changes and political upheaval, and it makes for an intriguing backdrop to the storylines.

The work has a theme song, the beautifully lyrical and solemn Adagietto from Mahler’s Fifth Symphony that many of us remember Bernstein conducting at Robert Kennedy’s funeral. Tell us about this leitmotif and the themes in PEGASUS FALLING.

I had no idea the Adagietto was played at Robert Kennedy’s funeral! (I’m a Brit, so I hope I’m allowed to not know that!). I’m not surprised, though. It is one of the most romantic, beautiful and poignant pieces of music I have ever heard and it never ceases to move me.

By coincidence, it is Bernstein who conducts the orchestra in the scene that features the music in Pegasus Falling. The scene takes place in the Dizengoff Hall in Tel Aviv and I believe William attended concerts there himself when he was a paratrooper stationed in Palestine. He must have seen the young Bernstein conduct and he was obviously impressed by what he heard, because he owned a huge vinyl collection of Bernstein’s recordings.

Mahler’s music is not only important to the book, it is also very important to William. And not just Mahler – he is a huge music fan, particularly of classical and jazz (although he also has a penchant for The Eagles!). He is now severely incapacitated by Alzheimer’s disease, and one of the few ways we are still able to communicate with him is through his music collection.

In Pegasus Falling, the music has a profound effect on Lesley Carrington, and it can have quite an astonishing effect on William too. Often, when one of his favourite pieces is played to him, his eyes will open and he’ll raise his hand as if conducting the orchestra. It is through music that we as a family still feel able to reach him through the fog of Alzheimer’s.

The musical theme continues through the other parts of the trilogy too. The title of book two, It Never Was You, is derived from the famous Kurt Weill song. The main character, Harry, is an accomplished pianist (as was William) and the song features in a key scene, as well as reflecting one of the overarching themes of the trilogy – that of unrequited love.

When will all three volumes be available?

The short answer is “as soon as possible”! Pegasus Falling was released in March last year. It took me three years, working in fits and starts between work contracts, to get it ready for publication. I wanted to release part two as quickly as possible, so I took time out of work last year to speed the process up, but it has still taken a surprisingly long time – over a year. I wasn’t prepared to rush it and risk launching a book that wasn’t ready.

But I am happy to report that, as of this week, It Never Was You, part two of the trilogy, is available as an ebook. The paperback will follow very shortly. After a short period of intense marketing, I’ll be knuckling down and trying to complete the third book before the end of this year. I’d love for the trilogy to be completed before the year is out, but again I’m not going to cut any corners to achieve that goal. The most important thing for me is to make sure I do William’s work justice.

All I can say to readers who are waiting patiently for the conclusion is, keep a look out on my blog where I’ll be posting updates on progress. And if readers really can’t wait, drop me an email and I’ll sign you up to the newsletter – that way, you’ll be the first to know when and where the third installment will be available.

You sent me an excerpt and introduced me to Sammy, obviously the main character. Why is he different from other men? What drives him?

When I first read the books, Sammy was the character who stood out from all the others. His story is an incredible one, and to this day, having read the story over and over, I still find it difficult to pin him down.

As a reader you jump from being frightened of him to loving him, and back again – and many of the other characters, Lesley and Naomi included, feel the same way.

Sammy is a Captain in the British Parachute Regiment. He is not your average soldier – he is a research fellow at Cambridge University, leaving his studies into genetics to take up the fight against Fascism. He is a very intelligent and well-read man, and can’t abide the “bullshit” (his word) * that goes with army life. The close camaraderie and unconventional discipline in the parachute regiment suits Sammy – he is not one for standing on parade and barracking the troops. Instead, he treats his fellow soldiers as friends, regardless of rank, and shows a distinct disdain for his superiors who insist he acts otherwise.

In battle, as well as in life, he chooses which rules to follow, depending on whether they fit in with his own world view. If they help to make the world a better and fairer place, they’re worth following. Otherwise, you can forget it. It is this bloody-mindedness which both gets him into trouble with the Germans in the first place, and helps him to survive.

On the surface, Sammy is a brute – he is described as having a pugilist’s nose, and his training and experiences have left him with an intimidating physique and formidable demeanor. There is, however, a softer, more humane side to Sammy. His treatment of Naomi when she comes to him in the camp is heartbreakingly compassionate. He is willing to defend his friends and those he loves by any means, even if he finds himself at odds with their political point of view.

Both women in the book fall in love with this gentler, more sensitive man, and in the end, I think it is this man that the reader comes to recognize as the true Sammy.

How did the war change the main characters?

William’s own experiences in the parachute regiment changed him profoundly, so this was always going to be a major theme throughout the books.

Sammy, a quiet, bookish research fellow from Cambridge, is turned by training and a need to fight for what he believes in, into a brutish thug. When he is liberated from the concentration camp he finds it very difficult to adjust to life. His battle scars run very deep indeed.

And Sammy is not his real name, after all. It’s Stanley Adam Malcolm Parker. His platoon buddies coined his nickname from his initials (S.A.M.), but after the war, Sammy finds it difficult to go back to using his own name. At one point, Sammy explains to a friend he hasn’t seen since before the war, “young Stan Parker is dead. He died in Matthausen. The man who came back was a different person.”

Naomi, the woman who Sammy meets in the camp, is irrevocably changed by her terrible experiences at the hands of the Nazis. Before the war, she was a quiet housewife and mother from Dresden. The war takes away from her, not only her husband and children, but also her home (Dresden was almost entirely obliterated by the RAF in a bombing raid in February 1945, just months before the war ended). She also loses her dignity, forced as she is to act as the camp commandant’s mistress in order to stay out of the showers.

How did you first become involved in promoting your grandfather’s work?

My grandfather wrote The Cypress Branches a little over 20 years ago now. As so many do, he wanted a project to keep himself entertained when he retired. But whereas many sit down to write their memoirs, instead William set about producing an epic work of fiction. It took him two years to complete and became an obsession for him, writing at every given opportunity, stopping only to eat and read what he’d written that day to his wife (my grandmother), Sheila. I remember clearly watching him and hearing him at the typewriter, completely absorbed in his work and his characters, and I was astonished when I first saw the fruits of his labours.

Unfortunately, shortly after finishing his magnum opus, William’s health started to deteriorate, and he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. His illness meant that he could not pursue his dream of getting his book published, as I and many others who had been lucky enough to read the book had urged him to do.

It was by chance one day that I spotted an advert for a print-on-demand publishing service on the London Underground which got me thinking – perhaps there was something I could do to help. In order for William to see his book in print (and for it to still mean something to a man who’s short-term memory was fading fast), I chose to publish a hardback version of the entire work myself. At this point it was very much a family project, but I knew that the book could have a much wider appeal, so when the hardback was finished, I set about turning the huge novel into a series of smaller paperbacks.

So, William’s obsession became mine and the rest, as they say, is history.

Bio: (William’s)

William Edward Thomas was born in West London in 1925.

He left The Brompton Oratory School when he was 14 and started work as a messenger at the BBC. When war broke out, he went to work with his father at a factory in Harrow. While still a teenager, William joined the army and was soon recruited in to the Parachute Regiment. By May 1945, he had been “dropped” in to a number of key battles and become a much decorated soldier. He was still only 19 years old. Following the war, William served in Palestine until 1948.

William has six children. As they were growing up, he was working and studying in shifts as a merchant seaman and an engineer. In his mid fifties, he decided to work full time as a lab technician at his Alma Mater, The Open University and remained there until his retirement. It was during his retirement that he decided to set himself the challenge of writing a novel. The Cypress Branches is the result.

William was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease in 2006. His health has since deteriorated to the point where he can no longer live at home and he is now in full-time care in the town UK of Milton Keynes, where he had lived for 25 years. He is visited by friends and family daily.

Note: This interview is part of the IT NEVER WAS YOU Blog Tour at  http://acuteanglebooks.blogspot.com/2013/04/inwy-tour.html As part of the tour, Mike Harris is using Rafflecopter to give away a $50 Amazon gift certificate, 3 paperbacks and 10 ebooks. You can enter here: a Rafflecopter giveaway

Links to websites and where we can buy the books

Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007K8QM8

Amazon.co.uk: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007K8QM8E

Kobo: http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Pegasus-Falling-Part-Cypress-Branches/book-aRdbIfc_5k6C8d4UwP4BRQ/page1.html?s=k0GahhdxfUuQIFusQO1mFg&r=1

Listen to the theme song of the trilogy, the beautiful Adagietto from Mahler’s Fifth Symphony:

An Excerpt from No More Brothers

Tuesday, February 12, 1867

Evidence of spring, the sky was saturated with a blue so deep it could be the Madonna’s cloak. A scouring wind blew Serafina’s cape. Ancient trees bent against its force, but as they rolled and bounced inland, the air grew softer. Their world filled with spring blossoms and Serafina smelled the heavy scent of almond, the tang of citrus.

Carlo drove. She closed her eyes and felt sand underneath her lids. She shouldn’t have indulged her sorrow last night, weeping for hours in her room. She was a fool without conviction. What would her mother have done? Gone to him, of course. Or maybe not. But she’d be quick to give her daughter advice. Serafina could hear her saying something about time to get on with life.

It took hours of searching before they found Ugo’s missing boot. Nearby she saw churning footprints in the soft earth, a red button, nothing more.

“Take the boot?” Carlo asked.

“And the button. I’ve had enough searching for today. I know a little clearing not far from here, a good spot to rest. Bring the food.”

They walked apart, Serafina several meters ahead of Carlo, but she could hear him clomping back and forth, cracking branches, crushing leaves. Soon I’ll hear the full force of his roar.

He called out, his voice ringing in the clear air, “What’s the point? Why can’t we all make love and babies and coins, honor our family and have done with it? Forget the war and the thugs, the poverty of the peasants, the corruption of the government.”

Serafina swiveled around.

Her son didn’t bother to face her. “Why try to change the world? You can’t even keep your daughters at home.”

She stared at him.

“That’s right. They can’t wait to leave. First it was Carmela. Now Renata’s gone.”

Photo: View of the Madonie. Credit: Antonio Llardo (Flickr), Creative Commons.

I loved him, you know. Steve. Even with his arrogance, he was still the best dreamer, especially in his stocking feet. So today, his unbirthday, I’ll dream in his honor. And you?

The following is an excerpt from chapter eight of SOUTHERN CROSS, the third novel in the Erin Solomon mysteries. In the excerpt, Erin is at a tent revival in rural Kentucky with her good friend and fellow reporter Daniel Diggins (“Diggs”), investigating the murder of Diggs’ childhood best friend. Naturally enough, madness ensues.

Reverend Barnel’s tent was a deluxe—I didn’t even know you could get a tent that big. It was powered by a generator situated behind the stage. Speakers bigger than Barnel himself flanked the makeshift platform, and aisle upon aisle of folding metal chairs filled the space. It was a cold, damp evening, but the masses in the tent generated enough heat to more than make up for that. There was a table with refreshments: breads and cakes and cookies, soda and juice, a couple of industrial-sized tubs of potato salad. Apparently, Barnel was big on carb loading. I put a dollar in the jar of a little girl with a dress buttoned from her throat to her ankles, and helped myself to a cup of chocolate pudding and a spoon.

Diggs gave me the hairy eyeball.

“What? It’s chocolate.”

He just shook his head at me, like I was a lost cause. Which I may have been, but I didn’t care. I had chocolate.

By the time we found a seat, the reverend’s opening act had already started: a kid named Toby and his parents, playing guitar and singing hymns. I gathered from the reaction of the crowd that the family was a headliner around these parts, but they didn’t do a lot for me. Within two minutes of a countrified version of “Go Tell It On the Mountain,” I was ready to stab little Toby in the eye with my plastic spoon. All around us, hands went up in the air, people whispering prayers or shouting “Hallelujah” over the music.

Everyone got to their feet when Toby and his kin started up with a medley of country hymns I didn’t recognize from my own church-going days. I set my empty cup under my chair and stood with Diggs. A wall of bodies closed in on all sides, the smell of sweat and Avon perfume obliterating the last remnants of my chocolate high…

As soon as Barnel took the stage, the energy changed. The crowd fell silent. A Hellraiser chill raced up my spine when he raised his hands to the sky.

“The time has come, my friends. I know you’re here tonight for hope; you’re waitin’ on me to tell you that there’s still time for you to save your kin, to change your ways, to do all the things you been promisin’ the Lord you’d do all these years. But tonight I don’t have a message of hope… If you ain’t with us now, friends, you gotta get with the Lord this second. Now. There’s no more waitin’ on Him to come…”

Barnel mopped his sweating brow with the back of his arm. His face was flushed. A baby cried in the back, but otherwise the tent was quiet. Barnel grabbed his mic and took a couple of steps toward the congregation, leaving his pulpit.

“Jesus Christ himself spoke to me this week, brothers and sisters. Clear as day. Clear as I’m talkin’ to you here and now. And he told me that I am the bringer of light. That’s right—you heard me. He said, ‘Jesup T. Barnel, it’s up to you now. You gotta get this ball rollin’.’”

I looked at Diggs, who just shook his head like the whole scene was beyond nuts. His composure made me feel marginally better: the rest of the crowd was freaking the crap out of me.

“The clock is tickin’, brothers and sisters. Forty-eight hours: that’s all you got. At midnight this very night—just thirty minutes from right now—a series of events will start up to bring you to your very knees, right here in Justice. I don’t know what they’ll be… but I know it’s my job to see us through as best I can. Which is why after tonight, the Lord has told me it’s time for me to leave y’all for a little while.” There was a collective gasp from the crowd. A woman started crying.

“Don’t y’all worry none, though. We’re gonna be reunited on them golden shores. And my soldiers are right here. They know their place—I’ve passed the Lord’s message on to them, and they know what they’ve gotta do. And you know what you’ve gotta do.”

Based on the way everyone seemed to be holding their breath at once, I was guessing I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t totally clear on that, actually.

“You’ve gotta repent,” Barnel finally clarified. “You’ve gotta hole up, protect your loved ones, and get down on your knees and pray to almighty God. Those standin’ with me know what’s what: they know who’s not worthy. Orders have been given from on high, and there will be those in this town—those among you this very night—who will be taken. And forty-eight hours from now, the final cleansing will be done. And those still standin’ will be taken to the Kingdom of the Lord, to live with Him for all eternity. Let me hear you say, ‘Amen.’”

A chorus of ‘amen’s rose up around us. Diggs looked at me, then back at the man behind the pulpit. Barnel raised his hands, and they fell silent once more.

“Are you on the right side, brothers and sisters? When He passes judgment, will you be found wantin’… Or will you set at his right hand?”

People were starting to freak out around us—It’s all well and good to know that Armageddon’s headed your way at some unappointed date in the near or distant future. It’s something else entirely when a crazy old preacher with a branding iron tells you the end times are kicking off at midnight, so you best be ready.

“I think we should get out of here,” Diggs whispered to me. “I’m not getting a great vibe.”

Didn’t have to tell me twice. The “amen”s and “hallelujah”s reached a crescendo as Diggs and I made for the exit, doing our best not to attract undue attention. As it was, we were almost home free when Barnel called after us.

“You run, Daniel Diggins—you know which side you done landed on. You run as far as you can, but you can’t outrun the Lord. He’s comin’ for you.”

Where can we find you online?

http://bloodwrites.com/

http://jenblood.com/

http://erinsolomon.com/

http://twitter.com/jenblood

http://facebook.com/jenblood1

Where can readers buy your books?

All the Blue-Eyed Angels*

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Blue-Eyed-Angels-Solomon-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B007B2IG1A/
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/all-the-blue-eyed-angels-book-1-of-the-erin-solomon-mysteries-jen-blood/1114843198?ean=2940033076666
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/134828
Signed, print copies w/ free shipping within the U.S.: http://erinsolomon.com/store

*Right now, All the Blue-Eyed Angels is free on Smashwords and Barnes and Noble.

Sins of the Father 

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Sins-Father-Solomon-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B008OKBNOK/
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sins-of-the-father-book-2-of-the-erin-solomon-mysteries-jen-blood/1114843230?ean=2940044741287
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/208170
Signed, print copies w/ free shipping within the U.S.: http://erinsolomon.com/store

Southern Cross

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Southern-Cross-Solomon-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B00BSXJP5O/
Smashwords (available only until April 6): http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/294975
Signed, print copies w/ free shipping within the U.S.: http://erinsolomon.com/store

INTERVIEW WITH Jen Blood

Hi, Jen, I’m just thrilled to talk about your totally lovable character Erin Solomon and her mystery series. I devoured the first three books in Erin’s series, couldn’t put it down. First things first: please give us a quick synopsis of the series.

The series features investigative reporter Erin Solomon, who is trying to solve a mystery that has haunted her since childhood: the alleged cult suicide of the Payson Church of Tomorrow, a fundamentalist church where Erin’s father raised her for the first ten years of her life. Each novel contains a standalone mystery, a healthy dose of romance between Erin and two suitors—Diggs, her long-time best friend (and frequently more), and Jack Juarez, a mysterious FBI agent with his own haunted past—as well as the continuing thread of the Payson Church and Erin’s father’s role in that tragedy.

The setting of ALL THE BLUE-EYED ANGELS is magnificent, and the sense of place in both SINS OF THE FATHER and SOUTHERN CROSS, haunting. While all three books feature Erin’s quest, two of the books concern—at least in part—fundamentalist communities. Can you speak to that fascination?

Thank you! When I was growing up, my mom spent a few years going to a Pentecostal church – the kind with healings, revivals, folks speaking in tongues, writhing on the floor… the works. It was the same church she’d been raised in, and my grandparents were very devout. Some of the experiences I write about are ones I’ve actually witnessed firsthand, while others come from my mom’s stories of her childhood—which are fascinating. Her uncle was a fundamentalist preacher who used to hold services in the local firehouse back in the ‘50s and ‘60s. As a kid, I remember being so fascinated (and occasionally terrified) by the fervor and the drama, these huge outpourings of emotion supposedly inspired by this invisible deity walking among us. Clearly, that fascination hasn’t waned. 

“Erin has evolved tremendously from All the Blue-Eyed Angels, but her journey is far from over. There are still some tough things coming up, and it will be interesting to see how she deals with adversity now versus her absolute, steel-fisted refusal to yield (or listen to reason) in the first two novels.”

Tell us about how the Erin’s story grew in you. OR, Tell us about the character, Erin Solomon and how her story grew in you.

The story did actually originate with the character, beginning with a short story I wrote one day in grad school, called “Anna’s Hair.” (Erin was Anna Solomon until I realized there was a relatively popular literary fiction novelist named Anna Solomon, and I didn’t want to share billing with her). So… the story was about a recently-divorced woman who returns to her Maine hometown. I’m not even sure where the story is, now; there wasn’t much to it. But for some reason I couldn’t let the character go, so I started looking around for a larger story worthy of the tough-and-tender protagonist I was envisioning. At the same time, I’d just read Laurie King’s A Darker Place, about a crime-solving theologian who lost her husband and child in a cult suicide. I loved that book, and started doing a great deal of research into cults and cult suicide… Eventually, out of all that mess, All the Blue-eyed Angels was born.

What is Erin’s essential truth? Without giving any of the plot away, can you talk about Erin’s character arc, at least as much of it as she lets you in on.

I think Erin is still figuring out her essential truth, really. She has plenty of ponderable truths: We are here to lead a purpose-based life; a disturbing truth is more valuable than a comforting lie; the bond of friendship is for life, and well worth dying for; humor is integral to survival; it’s more important to be honest than lovable; the company of a dog is preferable to 95% of the human race.

As for her arc, we’re definitely still working our way through that. Erin has evolved tremendously from All the Blue-Eyed Angels, but her journey is far from over. There are still some tough things coming up, and it will be interesting to see how she deals with adversity now versus her absolute, steel-fisted refusal to yield (or listen to reason) in the first two novels.

The idea of a puppet master fascinates me, especially as it relates to culpability and the inability to uncover the truth of the past. Would you talk a little bit about it?

In this universe I’ve created, there is definitely someone out there pulling the strings and holding tight to the secrets of the past. I can’t really address the question specifically because it will give too much away, but, more generally, I will say that for someone like Erin, who places such emphasis on the truth and who’s clearly such a control freak, the simple idea of not knowing is a maddening thing. Combine that with the fact that there is this mysterious entity out there somewhere who knows the whole story—who in essence knows her origin story better than Erin herself does—and I think it makes for a very interesting dynamic to push the mystery (and Erin’s quest) forward.

A phenomenal narrative voice, Erin tells her story in the present tense. Did you experiment with POV?

I did a lot of experimentation, definitely. The first several drafts of the novel were written in third person, but I wasn’t able to convey adequately just what a strong voice Erin has by doing things that way. Andyou may have noticed that there are some tense shifts (the prologue in All the Blue-Eyed Angels, for example, as well as the alternating chapters flashing back to 1990 with Rebecca Ashmont, are written in present tense) while the bulk of the story is told in past tense… Psych studies have shown that PTSD sufferers typically relate traumatic events in the present tense, because in many ways the mind is still living in that moment. To Erin—particularly in Angels—her actual present isn’t nearly as real or as important to her as those events in the summer of 1990. Consequently, present is in past tense, while the past is in present tense. If that makes any sense at all.

You have a lot of threads going all through the novel; did you use any kind of outline to keep things straight? I guess I’m asking, do you do a lot of plotting before you write your novels?

With these novels, it’s imperative to do a lot of plotting, because there are threads that run from the first to the fifth novel, and I need to keep track of… well, everything. I’ve just started using the writing program Scrivener, which I adore. I also use index cards, collages, and I’m a lunatic about outlines. I love the things. The outlines evolve a great deal from the time I start a book to the time I finish it, but there are pieces that of necessity must remain fixed since they were first established in Angels. 

How long did it take you to write ALL THE BLUE-EYED ANGELS?

I actually started writing Angels as an undergrad studying Creative Writing at Goddard College. I wrote my undergraduate thesis on pacing in popular fiction, and finished the first draft of the novel at that point (back in 2003). Then I wrote another draft in grad school… I put the manuscript away after I graduated, and didn’t take it out again until 2009 or so, when I started really thinking about what wasn’t working in the book, how to fix that, and what I wanted to achieve with the series.

When did you first realize you had a gift for writing?

When I was a kid, my dad used to have me tell him bedtime stories instead of reading to me, and my mom was forever making up characters and fun stories that I would add to. Storytelling was just a natural part of childhood in my house. I was a voracious reader from the start, and had a distant cousin who wrote children’s mysteries based here in Maine. We began corresponding, and she came into my class in third grade to talk to the kids. I was hooked. I started writing stories when I was around eight or nine, and was actively working on full novels by the time I was in junior high. I had some wonderful teachers who were always very encouraging, as were my parents. So… I don’t know that I ever really realized I had a gift per se, but I knew it was a passion and I would do everything I could to learn the craft.

Who are your favorite authors? What are you reading now?

I love a good mystery series, and will usually burn through from the first book on if I have the chance. Dennis Lehane’s Kenzie/Gennaro series is one of the things that inspired me to make the leap from literary to pop fiction (I studied literary fiction until my final year as an undergraduate). I love John Sandford, Nevada Barr, Janet Evanovich, Patricia Cornwell, Jeffrey Deaver, Michael Connelly… I get so invested in a character that I’ll follow them anywhere. Outside mainstream, plot-driven fiction, I love Barbara Kingsolver, Alice Hoffman, Isabel Allende, Ray Bradbury, Jack Kerouac, Nick Hornby, Toni Morrison… Authors in that class do such breathtaking things with words that I’m typically tempted to just hang up the whole thing and do something else entirely, but I’ve learned a great deal by studying their work.

These days, I read a lot of indie authors because I write book reviews for Awesome Indies, and I’ve discovered some wonderful writers that way: Joanne Sydney Lessner, DV Berkom, Darcy Scott, Tahlia Newland, Susan Russo Anderson (perhaps you’ve heard of her?  )… Right now, I’m reading Joanne Sydney Lessner’s soon-to-be-released BAD PUBLICITY, the second novel featuring out-of-work actress Isobel Spice. It’s wonderful fun—one of those light reads you just don’t want to put down.

You have an M.A. in Popular Literature. As a writer, what did this advanced degree give you or your work? Would you recommend the process?

I decided my final year as an undergrad that I wanted to continue on and get my MFA in writing, student loans be damned. I was looking at several different programs, but then found out that Dennis Lehane was instructing at a brand new low-residency MFA in Creative Writing at the University of Southern Maine. That pretty much made the decision for me. I don’t know that I would recommend it for everyone, but for two years it was such an amazing experience to be immersed in every aspect of being a writer: I was arts editor at the college newspaper, worked freelance as a writer and editor, went to readings, belonged to a writing group, dated writers, hung out with writers, and one way or another every conversation invariably came back around to the power of words. I worked with phenomenal instructors who were passionate about the craft and so generous with their time and expertise. It gave me confidence and contacts, and taught me discipline and focus. I’m definitely grateful for the opportunity to participate in that program.

How do you think being a journalist has influenced your style?

Being a journalist demystifies the whole writing-on-a-schedule process, and pretty much shoots the silly notion of only writing when you’re inspired right out of the water. It taught me quick-and-dirty research techniques, and how to do an effective interview. It taught me how to write something and then let it go, rather than agonizing about it and letting it gather dust for months and months. It’s also a great way to learn how to refine your words and cut all the extraneous details out of your work. I personally think anyone who fancies themselves a writer should be forced to spend at least a few months working as a journalist, even if it’s just at your local newspaper. It’s educational on so many levels.

I’m interested in how or why you chose to be an independently published author instead of going the more traditional route?

I knew that the story I was telling in All the Blue-Eyed Angels was bigger than a single novel—which is a risky proposition most traditional publishers aren’t willing to take a chance on, particularly for a first-time novelist. While Angels has closure to some extent, there’s definitely forward motion and something of a cliffhanger ending. The first five novels in the series make up a pentalogy, and the mystery first brought to light in Angels will ultimately be wrapped up with that fifth novel, The Book of J. I knew there was no way in hell a traditional publisher would let me tell the story that way.

I’d been following the indie publishing movement for awhile, already had a good online following from other writing I’d done, and had at least the beginnings of a platform through the blogging I’d been doing. So, I decided to give it a shot. In all honesty, I didn’t think All the Blue-Eyed Angels would do much; I figured I might be able to make some semblance of a living by the time I got to the fourth book, but I assumed I’d continue to cobble together a half-assed living working six freelance jobs and writing in the middle of the night for at least another couple of years.

Instead, the novel caught fire after my first free promotion in June of 2012, and by the time the second novel was released in July, I was starting to suspect I might be able to move that timeline up. Since October, 2012, I’ve been supporting myself almost exclusively through fiction sales (along with the occasional consulting work or seminar), and I’m hopeful that things will only get better going forward. I have nothing against traditional publishing, but after a lot of careful thought about the direction I wanted to go, I knew indie was the smartest move for me starting out. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t go with a traditional publisher at some point, by any means, but whatever they were offering would have to make sense for the long-term and would definitely have to be on my terms.

Do you have any current or upcoming promotions, appearances, or releases you’d like readers to know about?

I just released the third novel in the Erin Solomon series, SOUTHERN CROSS, and I’m thrilled with the reviews I’ve gotten thus far. And I have appearances around Maine for the month of April, which you can find at my website (http://jenblood.net/upcoming-events/).

Where can we find you online?

http://bloodwrites.com/

http://jenblood.com/

http://erinsolomon.com/

http://twitter.com/jenblood

http://facebook.com/jenblood1

Where can readers buy your books?

All the Blue-Eyed Angels*

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Blue-Eyed-Angels-Solomon-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B007B2IG1A/
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/all-the-blue-eyed-angels-book-1-of-the-erin-solomon-mysteries-jen-blood/1114843198?ean=2940033076666
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/134828
Signed, print copies w/ free shipping within the U.S.: http://erinsolomon.com/store

*Right now, All the Blue-Eyed Angels is free on Smashwords and Barnes and Noble.

Sins of the Father 

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Sins-Father-Solomon-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B008OKBNOK/
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sins-of-the-father-book-2-of-the-erin-solomon-mysteries-jen-blood/1114843230?ean=2940044741287
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/208170
Signed, print copies w/ free shipping within the U.S.: http://erinsolomon.com/store

Southern Cross

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Southern-Cross-Solomon-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B00BSXJP5O/
Smashwords (available only until April 6): http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/294975
Signed, print copies w/ free shipping within the U.S.: http://erinsolomon.com/store